In which John is adorable and Lorne worries
by Snarky - I like it
Summary: Sheppard is turned into a four year old by a well intentioned Ancient device. While in this oblivious state he sees some less than appropriate interactions between Lorne and Parrish . . . and remembers it when he's big again. John!Fluff galore


Lorne was turning an ancient device over in his hand, eyes glued to it, but his mind was about fifteen feet to his left. Sheppard had come with SGA-2 to look at some old damage in the far outreaches of the city. With the Replicators gone, the Atlantians had been finding more and more time to repair damage that had been put aside for years. Lorne was glad for it; he liked a working, healthy Atlantis, but his CO didn't seem up to the trip.

Lorne hadn't noticed anything until a few minutes ago, when they entered this lab, but in that short span Sheppard had gone from rolling his shoulder to much to leaning against things and breathing harder than he really should need to, subtly of course.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Major Lorne?" His voice didn't sound any better than his face looked. Sheppard being Sheppard, though, wasn't likely to go to the infirmary easily.

"Maybe we should take a break sir, I'm a little tired." Sheppard saw right through it and gave him an annoyed look, but then he nodded in defeat. Lorne voted it a win but refrained from making the corresponding motions – doing in a little dance in front of your superior officer wasn't exactly considered manly.

Or at least, he was about to deem it mentally dancing worthy when the Colonel clutched his stomach and made a sound that unmistakably expressed his displeasure. A chorus of _sirs_ was heard as half a dozen military personnel worriedly shuffled over to him.

"Sir," Lorne, a brave soul regardless of any anvils that may or may not have fallen somewhere near his abdominal region, grabbed his commanding officer's shoulder and eased him to the ground, leaning halfway on some large ancient equipment and halfway on Lorne. His breathing was worse.

Lorne yelled something into his radio about medics and unknown cause while he frantically tried to figure out was wrong with the now unresponsive and feverish Colonel.

"Get him out of this room," shouted one of the marines and it made enough sense to the desperate Major that he simply pulled up Sheppard by his shoulders while another grabbed his legs. They eased him down a few feet along the hallway while another marine sealed the lab door shut.

Lorne checked his pulse, his training kicking in, "Fast," he informed. "Anyone see anything weird in there?"

"No sir," said the one who suggested they leave the lab, "but he seemed fine until we got in there."

Lorne started to nod in agreement, but halted in astonishment as Sheppard's skin started to glow blue. Then, then it almost looked as if he were ascending . . .

Lorne glanced away, caught up in the extremely distressing and yet awe inspiring thought of his superior leaving this plane of existence . . . which would be completely deserved if John were dead; he wasn't dead, was he? Horrified, the Major couldn't even begin to wrap his head around _his superior glowing bright blue_. And then he heard a whimper.

He looked back at Sheppard. Sheppard, who whimpered. Sheppard, who looked about four years old.

There was a completely deserved moment of shocked silence. And then another. Then Sheppard – John – started to get up and walk towards Lorne, who promptly snapped out of his daze and picked the little guy up. "Shhh, shh, it's okay," he started awkwardly, unsure of what he was supposed to do, but feeling extremely protective, "everything's alright."

"My stomach still hurts a little, Evan," little John said calmly, "Is everyone else okay?" That was John Sheppard alright, always making sure the others were okay.

"Yes, John," Lorne hesitated on the name, "everyone's fine, but we're going to get you checked out by the doctors, okay?" Right then Lorne would give the whole entire universe, Pegasus and the Milky Way included, to make this little boy be in perfect health.

John nodded, "Okay. You're going to come with me, right?"

"Of course, yeah." John smiled up at him, a perfectly innocent, four year old smile.

Keller was a bit baffled, to say the least, when she saw little John, and a half hour later the infirmary didn't see her any less confused. Ronon was hovering protectively, Rodney was babbling nervously, much to the amusement of John, and Teyla sitting near him, a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Well," Keller started, "it does seem like he remembers a lot of his adult life; if now he sees it through four year old eyes."

"Will this hurt him in any way?" Teyla asked, straight to the point.

"It doesn't look like it now, but I really wish we knew more about the machine that did this to him."

"Oh!" Rodney started in, taking his attention of John for the first time in twenty five minutes, "Yes, it's probably designed to reverse the affects of a wraith feeding, though I imagine they never got it quite right. It probably sensed some residual enzyme from when," he paused, looking at John, but the little boy didn't seem to realize what they were talking about; he was playing with the hem of Rodney's pants, "from when he was fed on." Rodney finished softly.

"You said Zelenka is working on the device now?" Teyla inquired.

"Yes, yes, I, uh, wanted to see John before, uh-"

"I believe you should stay with him, Rodney. You and Ronon can play games with him." She added Ronon's name because, well, there was no doubt on anyone's mind as to how Ronon would be handling this; John won't ever be alone.

John looked up, "Can we play helicopter?"

Rodney scoffed, less nervous and seemingly taking comfort in something so _John_, "Of course, even as a four year old you love to fly." John only lifted his arms up with a big grin plastered on his face.

"How do you play?" Ronon stepped closer too little John, who turned to him, his arms still up.

"You pick me up and spin me around like a helicopter, above your head!" He grinned.

"Perhaps," Keller started, "You should play someplace else."

Ronon picked John up and held him to his chest with ease and only minor pouting from the boy who wasn't currently spinning around like a helicopter.

"Oh good, good," said Rodney nervously, "I'd probably drop him on his head."

They ran into a worried Lorne outside the infirmary. He gave guard duty excuses while staring straight at little John, "He's okay right? His brain isn't about to. . ." He waved his arms in a helpless manner.

"He will be just fine, Major Lorne," Teyla said before turning off to go to her own quarters.

Lorne smiled a little before looking back at John, "Does your stomach still hurt?"

"Nope, it went away. Are you going to play helicopter with us?"

Lorne chuckled a bit at the flyboy's choice in game before responding that he had to work, but maybe another time. The Major sighed with relief as the three walked away; it would be a long day, but at least Sheppard would see the end of it – assuming there wasn't any Pegasus style complications. Lorne grimaced and started thinking of what he could take out of a tack vest to make it suitable for a four year old.

Rodney sat on his bed, starring at this little, tiny, helpless version of John Sheppard. Well, maybe not helpless, the runt could probably kick pretty hard, and Ronon was merely getting them some food. He'd be back, and he'd defend the little guy with his life. John starred right back at him; after a few moments Rodney realized that they were having a staring contest and promptly felt his eyes dry up. And dry up. And, _goddamn it_, he blinked.

John smiled then, though, and that made Rodney smile. So then they spent a few minutes just smiling at each other. Rodney realized how helpful Sheppard actually was with the whole social interaction thing . . . though come to think of it, they'd had a few staring contests when John was tall enough to wash his hands unassisted.

"So, uh," Rodney started, "what do you want to do?"

John shrugged, "I dunno, what do you want to do?"

"Uhhh," in truth, Rodney wanted to have John try to convince him to go running, even though he never will, or be forced to watch _Air Force One _for the twenty third time. He thought about the _Air Force One _thing, but it really wasn't a four year old movie, so he let it pass. He stared at John for another minute before it hit him, "the pens!"

"Huh?"

"The pens! My pens, I have colorful pens." And Rodney was so excited he practically pranced off his bed and to his night stand. It was contagious, especially for a little boy who felt quite a bit of affection for Rodney. John was smiling broadly, if calmly. "You want to color?" asked Rodney.

John chuckled, and for a second Rodney, staring with a zillion metric tons of hope crowding his throat, thought he saw a 39 year old in there, "Only if you color with me!" It came out three octaves to high and Rodney re-realized the power wishful thinking.

Rodney slumped down onto the floor; John, oblivious, bounced down after him. They were lying with 27 pens and some paper forms that were never going to get filled out anyway and John seemed quite content to just sit and color. When Rodney had the presence of mind to realize that and it was such an immense relief that he happily colored for ten whole minutes before getting far to bored to possibly stand this anymore.

"So, uh, you want to play something else now?" Though, Rodney had absolutely no idea what.

"Uhhhhh," and Rodney was reminded that a four year old John was a cute John, and besides, he'd be back to normal soon. Rodney himself would be helping with that after his "shift" was done. "We could see what's taking Ronon so long."

Oh yeah, Ronon. "Sure," and then Rodney got excited because that was just the thing! He could do that without killing one of the few people who was actually amused by his . . . personality and character. "That's a great idea! Good job!"

They met Ronon in the hallway but decided to eat in the cafeteria; tables are good. They passed Lorne and Parrish finishing up what they deemed to be lemon pancakes, but John wasn't entirely sure that was a food, though they did look like pancakes. Rodney yelped and proceeded to frantically jabber in their general direction before appearing decide this whole area was entirely too dangerous to be in and left, quickly. Ronon and John didn't sit by them though, instead they sat in a more isolated area; little John didn't seem to like crowds very much.

It was mostly a quiet lunch with the occasional comments on the food, mostly from John. Ronon, after eating his and Rodney's meal, got up for more, though only after asking if John would be okay for a minute alone and if John wanted to accompany him. John declined, but he started to get a little nervous when Ronon was out of his eyesight.

John was considering getting up and looking for Ronon when a somewhat familiar blond marine popped in front of him.

"Hey, sir, how are you doing?" The near toddler stared, wide eyed, up at the enthusiastic soldier. "Me and some of the guys were thinking we could play tag or something with you," he moved to grab John, probably to help him off the slightly too high chair, but John freaked and started screaming. He tumbled off the chair and ran towards the less populated back exit, leaving a shell shocked marine behind.

Little John only made two turns before realizing the empty hallways of Atlantis were pretty scary too. He just wanted to be back with Ronon or Rodney or Lorne. They made him feel safe and protected. Turning to look behind him, John thought about going back . . . but there were so many people! Why couldn't Ronon just be right here? Or Lorne, or . . . Lorne! His quarters, John remembered now, were in this hallway! Ecstatic, John ran right to the door and jumped up and down in front of it until Atlantis recognized his not quite command.

And there was Lorne! John actually squealed and ran right to him, jumping onto the bed and hugging the man's side. John, four years old and immensely relieved, didn't even begin to realize the horror written all over Lorne and the half naked Parrish.

A dazed, bruised looking blonde marine was the one to tell Sam about our MIA four year old, but, thankfully, she hadn't even had time to tell Rodney before Major Lorne radioed in to tell her of his little visitor.

Major Lorne, himself, was very happy that he had little dressing to do, though a cold shower would help, because little John was literally attached to him now. Apparently, there was a little scare in the cafeteria after he and Parrish left. The happiness of being fully dressed, though, could not possibly overcome the immense anxiety one got when their superior officer walked in on them making out with _anyone_, let alone a man.

Turns out, that cold shower wasn't necessary.

Lorne walked John to the control room as Parrish quickly slipped back to his lab. Rodney had heard about the incident and was there bellowing at an unfortunate marine when Lorne came in. The Major spared a moment to wonder what was up with Rodney and blondes before coughing to make his presence known to the fuming ball of fiery flames.

"What!" He snarled, but then he froze, starring at little John. "You, uh, you okay?"

John smiled as if everything was now perfectly right in the world, "Yup!"

"Oh," Rodney stuttered and then smiled a bit himself, "good, I'm glad."

Ronon just looked menacingly at all involved – except John – and then picked the boy up protectively.

"Yes, well, anyway," started Rodney, "good of you to find him," he nodded at Lorne, who was doing his best to look casual, "and I think I've figured out how to reverse the process!" He waited expectantly for praise and got it in the form of clapping and a "Yay, Rodney!" from little John.

Lorne didn't go with Rodney and Ronon and little John. He went back to his quarters and panicked while trying very valiantly not to hyperventilate. Parrish came and helped in his amazing Parrish way, but it still didn't change the fact that his CO walked in on him making out with another guy.

Lorne knew John – Sheppard now, his CO again – might not remember, and even if he does, who's to say he will care? This is John Sheppard. That's what Lorne kept telling himself; John Sheppard, who was really laid back when it wasn't life threatening, John Sheppard, who never left a man behind, John Sheppard, the best CO he'd ever had.

Parrish hugged him, held him, until a voice on the radio told them that John Sheppard was 39 again.

They first saw each other at the debrief; Jo--Sheppard didn't seem to act any different to him than before the accident, except for being extraordinarily embarrassed on all sides. Not three sentences in, though, Lorne was sure Sheppard remembered everything. Five minutes later Sheppard must have noticed all the anxious looks he was giving him, because he started giving a look of his own.

Afterwards, Sheppard waved Lorne over to follow him down the hallway. Lorne's eyes were fixed on the ground.

Sheppard turned to him when they were far enough away from the others. "So, uh, you and Parrish?"

"Yes, sir." His voice showed his extreme discomfort.

Sheppard made an odd sort of nod, "Well, your business is your business."

Evan stopped walking and closed his eyes, the laughter that came out of his mouth right then had everything to do with a deep seated relief to be able to stay with his partner, and at least as importantly, he kept the respect of the most courageous and noble man on the planet.

When Evan Lorne opened his eyes John was smiling at him; Evan smiled back.


End file.
